


Take My Whole Life Too

by agrafena



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Despair, Difficult Decisions, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Pain, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agrafena/pseuds/agrafena
Summary: A group of survivors, led by a woman named Liz, stumble upon Alexandria, seeking refuge. Exposed to the difficulty reality of the Saviors’ “New World Order,” Liz promises to undo the world Negan has built by any means necessary. But…he has a plan of his own for her.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after Negan's first visit to Alexandria and deviates from the comics and television show.

Liz waited impatiently, sitting on the remains of a tree trunk. It had recently been cut down and she could see the depression in the grass from where it had been dragged through the woods, leading towards the gated community at the end of the road. From where she sat, she could faintly see the metal walls that separated the living from the dead. At first, they thought it was abandoned given that nobody appeared to be on the lookout, but they had heard voices when they searched the perimeter earlier that day. It had been so long since they’d seen real people aside from themselves. She wanted it to be real and yet, part of her warned it was a waste of time – the living were often far worse than the dead…but Christine and Fred had argued a fair point, they were running out of viable options if they wanted to last the winter.

Last the winter? What was she thinking? Her community was gone, there would be nothing to go back to come spring. And besides, they were lost. Homeless and lost. The dead had reclaimed the main highway they took down south, forcing them into the back roads. What began as a short detour turned into a month’s long voyage through walker invested bush, leading them all the way to Virginia. They ran out of food, supplies…they lost people, too. At this point, she was certain the hunger would take them before the walkers did. Or so she thought, until Fred’s bastard ass came running and heaving that he found a community at the end of the road.

“Alexandria Safe Zone” he said, but he didn’t dare approach the gate. Not even the sign which promised mercy was compelling enough to risk knocking. No telling who they were or what they were like. It was best to keep a healthy distance between them until they knew better. So, they waited till the sun set and the voices quieted behind the gates to get a good look at them.

“You won’t believe this shit,” Christine hissed as she climbed down from a tree. Liz was quick to her feet, approaching her friend in measured steps though her heart was beating rapidly.

“What’s inside?” She asked, her fingers twitching at her sides. She could barely make out Christine’s sunken, tired eyes in the darkness though the exhaustion in her voice reassured Liz that their hunger and desperation was ever present.

“They’ve got houses – I’m talking fully detached homes, not shacks or tents. Not many folks, from what I could see, but it looks safe.” Christine smoothed out her ponytail, yanking a stray branch out of her brown tresses.

“What about them? Did you get a good look at them?” She folded her arms to hide her shaky movements as she leaned against the tree.

“Looks peaceful. But you never know until you know, you know how it is.” Christine pulled her sweater off, passing it to a shivering Fred who accepted it without hesitation, though he made sure to avert his eyes. She was still pissed at him.

“What should we do? The kids are starving. We have no water and we’ve barely enough food to last another day.” He was impatient too. Stupid and impatient – but not wrong this time. Christine simply cast a glance her way, waiting for direction. She mulled over the options in her head, trying to decide what course of action would be best.

Her thoughts stopped short when she heard Delia trying to soothe the children to sleep. Liz couldn’t stand the thought of them sleeping in the dirt while the rest of them took turns watching for walkers once again. She didn’t want to drown out their chattering teeth and small whimpers another night.

“Okay,” Liz started, nodding as she pushed away from the tree.

“Liz – you let me, I can-“ Fred began.

“Would you shut up,” Christine yawned. “I know you like to play hero cause you think it’ll get you somewhere with her, but you’re not the one for this.” Fred’s lips pressed into a thin line as Christine chastised him, his eyes meeting Liz’s briefly before he looked down at the ground.

“I’ll do it. You get our people ready if things go bad.” She said, turning away from them to hide her nerves. The last thing she wanted them to see was her nervousness. When their community fell apart, Liz had instantly become the “leader” of their small group. It wasn’t a title she asked for and yet, nobody stepped forward to claim it as their own. In fact, the more she tried to pass off responsibilities and decisions to others, the more it seemed to have reinforced her position. The pressure of being charge was stifling – and she became reacquainted with the fear of loss, a fear she had tried to distance herself from since all this began.   

Before they could protest, she walked away. She ignored the uneasy thoughts and concentrated on the sounds her boots made as they crunched under the grass. Her eyes drifted to the lookout near the entrance, noting it was empty. With that, she cautiously stepped into the road. The heels of her boots sounded harsh under the concrete and she paused, uncertain.

Ahead of her was a community that was perhaps merciful, or not. She was risking her life, and her people’s, by approaching the gates of complete strangers. Her mind wandered as she took a step forward, imagining the worst. And yet, hadn’t they already seen the worst out there? They were surviving on whatever they could find from cars and homes they happened upon, but there was nowhere safe.

She stopped in front of the gate, taking in the sheer size of the compound. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. From afar, the community was intimidating but up close? It looked downright scary. The manpower and capacity required to build such a fortress told her they had to be organized.

Liz stood there, trying to find the courage to knock but her nerves reigned her back. In that moment, she felt like a coward. In her defense, she never had to do this before. But still, her people stood there, on the brink of starvation and collapse, and she was wasting time standing here doing nothing.

She shook her head and stepped forward as the inner most gate yanked open a few inches, creaking open just enough that she could see a pair of bewildered eyes staring at her sideways. Light from inside Alexandria spilled out into the darkened street. She kept her eyes trained on the person, trying to gauge their reaction. The eyes descended upon her gun and the gate snapped shut.

“Wait!” She started. She heard some shuffling – pacing, someone was pacing…

“I don’t mean to impart any disrespect Ms. Savior, but a week, by all definitions – everywhere, means seven days, not two.”

Liz stood there, trying to process everything the man said, unaccustomed to the deep southern accent. She couldn’t help but notice what sounded like a hint of infantile desperation in the man’s voice, almost like he were a child pleading.

“Now, I am obligated to open this gate on account of our agreement and such but I would have to ask that you not kill anyone….Please.”

“Uh,” she began, rubbing the back of her neck. “My name’s Elizabeth. Me and my people found your community and…” Her voice cracked. Shit, now wasn’t the time to fucking cry. Liz inhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose as she collected herself. “We’ve got young children out here and your sign promises mercy…Is that true?”

Moments passed but he said nothing.

“Hello? I can hear you breathing in there,” she called out.

Just when she thought he had gone, the inner gate yanked open enough to reveal a man. For a moment, she could hardly make him out, the light pooling around him made him look like a mere shadow. But then, her eyes readjusted, giving her the opportunity to appraise him. He was tall but looked meager with the way he slouched over, his face all cut up and bruised. His eyes drifted to her gun once more in hesitation.

Liz raised both her hands, slowly moving to take the gun out. He took a step back as she pulled it out of the holster but he appeared to relax when she placed it on the ground.

“You said you have children?” He asked, as she straightened.

“We’re seven adults, two children.” She confirmed. His head titled as she spoke and something passed over his feature, causing his brows to furrow in confusion.

“That accent…” His voice trailed off.

“Can we come in or not?” She asked, exasperated.

He unlocked the outer gate but never took his eyes off her. Liz stilled his hand went to pull it open, but it was quickly yanked away.

“Eugene! What are you doing!?” A deep voice bellowed.

“I…” Eugene began. “They said they had children.”

“Who did?” Eugene backed away from the gate in fear. Another man took his place, his shocked blue eyes piercing into her before his expression turned into one of suspicion. He turned back to look at something – perhaps someone, before his eyes fixed on her once more.

“I’m Elizabeth. As I told your friend here, we found your community” she said, pointing to the sign. “We’ve got kids, we’re starving and just need a place to stay. We’ll work for it, we aren’t looking to freeload.”

“I’m sorry, we’ve got barely enough food to feed our own people,” The man sighed, shaking his head. He grabbed the inner gate, moving to close it.

“I’ll get you more food.” She promised. “Finding things is what we do. Usually. Kind of hard to do that when you have two kids and a pregnant lady to look after out here.” If he didn’t let her in, she would make damn sure he felt extra guilty about turning away a pregnant woman.

His eyes met hers for a moment – he looked sympathetic. He was considering it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling the gate shut. “Trust me, you’re better off this way.”

She waited a moment, watching them. She could see their outlines against the gate as they waited for her to walk away. She grabbed her gun, stuffing it back into the holster with such force she thought the strap would break.

“Yeah, well do me a favor and take that fucking sign down.” She growled as she walked backwards. Failure bubbled in her stomach. She had no idea what she was going to do now. How would she feed the kids?

“Rick – think about this,” a woman chastised in a hushed voice. Liz paused, straining to hear as they descended into whispers.

“We don’t have to forget who we are, even in all of this,” the woman said. Her voice sounded like it was getting closer. Liz carefully approached the gate once more, hoping to hear what they were talking about. She leaned in just as it snapped open, revealing a woman with warm eyes and a kind smile.

“You said you’re good at finding things?” The woman asked as she opened the gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated (especially to a new writer such as myself) so comments and kudos are a great way to let me know if you enjoy this work.


	2. New World Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text in italics refers to the main character's thoughts, flashbacks and words that are being stressed.

Liz pointed her flashlight down the next aisle of a derelict department store, in search of items they could use to appease the malicious bastard of a dictator who only went by the name Negan. She recalled Rick’s defeated expression as he explained the events that had recently unfolded, how his shoulders slouched and his eyes appeared vacant and glassy. She only saw despair residing there, nothing more – no will, and no fight.

What she originally thought was a benevolent gesture of mercy turned out to be more self-interested, though she could hardly blame Rick. As it turned out, the Alexandrians were in dire need of supplies and people, considering they had just lost several of their own to Negan’s group, the Saviors. Liz and her people were uniquely positioned to take on that role – and she was willing to humor it until better circumstances presented themselves.

She scanned the items on a shelf, noting several medical kits that had been left behind. She gingerly placed them in the garbage bin she reserved for delicate items, dragging it with her as she walked the aisles. Outside, she could faintly hear the sounds of rock music and she knew Alex was working hard to clear walkers from the streets, directing them away from where they were.

They had gotten lucky. The department store they happened upon sat in what probably was once a busy suburban area. After the outbreak, most fled the cities and didn’t dare venture back in as walkers tended to flock there in huge numbers. However, if you knew what you were doing, you could get in and out easily. This supply run almost felt routine to her, like the old days when they were in New York. If Liz didn’t think too hard, it almost felt like she was there instead of here.

She sighed, looking into the garbage bin to examine the contents. Despite their impressive haul, Liz couldn’t help but feel there was some futility in it, remembering the tense conversation they had the night before. Upon settling her people into an empty home at the edge of Alexandria, Rick had ushered Liz, Christine and Fred into his home to discuss the terms of their stay.

Liz and Christine were all business – she was standing there, pen and paper in hand, ready to make a list of items Negan requested. When they asked, however, Rick simply let out a sigh.

_“You were dealt a bad hand,” Christine had said, shaking her head as she rolled an empty glass between the palms of her hands._

_“Christine,” Liz warned._

_“Am I wrong?” Christine began, “We’ve all been at this long enough to know that a supply run, let alone, a **good** supply run, will take longer than a week. Couple that with the fact that his only instructions were to get ‘something interesting,’ I’d say you all were set up to fail.”_

Christine was right. The vagueness of the request and the short deadline felt like a setup.

_“No matter what we give this man in five days, he’s going to kill one of you – one of us,” Christine corrected._

_“We’ve got to try,” Rick said after a moment._

Liz scoffed. Hell, if she was in Rick’s place she would have fought harder. Then again, that was easy for her to say. She couldn’t imagine losing people the way they lost people. Her eyes fell upon picture frames with stock images of happy families – she had unconsciously drifted towards the home décor section. As moments passed, she tried to tear her eyes away from the rows of happy nuclear families that seemed to be taunting her. She could make out her reflection in the glass of the frames, her expression empty, but on the inside…A sense of betrayal hit her like a ton of bricks and she raised her gun, ready to smash a frame when Christine all but materialized beside her.

“Look what I found,” she purred deviously, shaking a box that had a picture of a family swimming in a pool. _If I see one more smiling family_ , Elizabeth thought.

“Be serious,” Liz rolled her eyes, continuing her search. Up ahead, she saw a sign indicating the pharmacy and made a beeline for it.

“What?” Christine asked, feigning disbelief, “He did say interesting. Pools are interesting. And besides, maybe one of those stupid fucks will drown in it – and that will make this all worth it, if you ask me.”

The idea of one of them drowning in an inflatable pool brought a smile to her lips, but she quickly suppressed it.

“There she is!” Christine exclaimed, pointing at her. “Finally, I was starting to think your sense of humor died out there.”

“Not yet,” Liz chuckled, hopping the counter. She motioned for Christine to pass her a shopping basket. Christine tossed it before leaning against the counter, watching her.

Liz didn’t even pretend she knew what she was grabbing, instead she used the length of her arm to swipe large amounts of prescriptions into the basket.

“Mark still getting the semi-truck up and running?” Liz asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had suddenly engulfed them.

“Yeah…” Christine grunted. “I heard you and Fred arguing yesterday after we got in. He still at it?”

At the mention of Fred’s name, Liz felt a tension headache spring to life between her temples. Fred made Liz feel two types of emotions in between the emptiness she had succumbed to: rage and fear. He had been angry with her that she refused to let him go on a supply run, despite the fact that everyone knew he was terrible at it. Still, Fred wanted to be near her at all times. He wanted to be everywhere. Back in New York, she would have considered him a friend, until she learned their friendship and in fact, Fred’s entire presence in her life, had been a carefully constructed lie he built to seduce her. He was a fucking asshole and he was never to be underestimated.

“Yeah, he’s still at it,” she said as she started filling her second basket of drugs. “You’d think he would learn. But no, not Fred. He never fucking learns.”

A wash of emotions flooded her, and she tried to push them out of her mind. Some days, Liz wanted to tell Christine everything – but then she would have to say the words and she knew that would be enough to break her. She wished her emotions had an ‘off’ button, then Liz could break it and never look back.

Christine only nodded and they fell into silence once more. Thankfully, Mark’s voice came through the two way radio, advising them that the semi-truck outside the store was ready.

 _Finally_ , Liz thought. The department store was barren, dark and smelled like death. Liz and Christine had spent half a day killing the walkers inside before barricading the doors. The dead littered the floors like confetti and the smell was rank. Perhaps the open road had spoiled her, but being cooped up in a dark store without air conditioning and the smell of decaying flesh was unbearable after two days.

Liz poured the contents of the basket into the garbage bin before abandoning the pharmaceutical section. Christine and Liz dragged their respective garbage bins to the back, laying them near the massive collection of items they had gathered.  

“Think we’ve got enough?” Christine asked, sorting through some of the items.

“Either it will not be enough or we’ll appear insolent,” Liz remarked.

She thought the amount of stuff they were able to find was impressive given the circumstances but it could appear like goading if they weren’t careful. They had covered their bases, tossing in items they thought might strike Negan as interesting, including gaming consoles, liquor, adult films (which weren’t on the shelves, but whoever had worked security here had an impressive collection in their office) as well as Christine’s inflatable pool. They tossed in essential items as well, including seeds and gardening equipment they could use to grow fruits and vegetables, medicine, furniture, clothing and power tools. In sum, they had a lot of shit, enough to fill a semi-truck for sure, but she wasn’t certain how that would be perceived.

“You ready?” Mark called over the radio.

“Wait till you get a look at –“ Christine started before Liz pried the radio out of her hand.

“Yeah, we’re ready.” Liz confirmed. She tossed the radio into one of the bins before approaching the gate. “Give me a hand with this.”

They opened the gate at the loading dock just as Mark was opening the back of the truck.

Liz smiled at his disheveled form. He was covered in grease and sweat, his sandy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his face tanned from the sun. He gave them a cheeky thumbs up, before wiping his face with the back of his hand. Then, he peered into the store, whistling at the stuff before jogging up the stairs to help them load up the truck.

She stepped outside for the first time in two days, noting that it was early morning and the Virginia heat was uncompromising. They had pulled an all-nighter in order to ensure they left with enough time to get back. As she took a sip of water, she thought of her people – one in particular. _Kayla_. Her baby sister, the sweet eight year old with mom’s eyes, who cried when the bedtime stories Liz read her were “too happy.” A sense of dread overcame her as she imagined Kayla alone, in Alexandria, and what might happen to her if these items weren’t enough.

“We need to start heading back soon,” Liz cautioned. “We’ll hide our guns half an hour out, like we said we would.”

Liz had promised Rick they wouldn’t use guns – in fact they had given theirs over when they arrived. But she had no intention of honoring that. Christine and Liz had decided to hide the guns in the trees, a thirty minute drive from Alexandria, in the event that things went sour and they needed to arm themselves.

Mark and Christine nodded. They were all exhausted, but she told herself this was the home stretch. She brought the radio to her lips, advising Alex they were almost ready to go.

They worked in silence, the exhaustion and the heat bearing down on them. Nobody spoke, nobody said anything at all.

***

The gates were wide open when they approached Alexandria. Several armed men leaned against or sat on the hoods of cars surrounding the entrance, looking bored and unusually clean in stark contrast to them.

 _How nice that they would have all this leisure time_ , Elizabeth thought bitterly.

Inside, she could see a group of men digging through a small truck Rick’s people brought back. The rest had taken notice of their semi-truck, moving out of the way so they could drive in.

“You see that one in the green shirt?” Christine asked, pretending to look around the community.

“Yeah,” Mark answered as he glanced inconspicuously at the man.

“He ain’t even holding that gun right. We sure these people are as dangerous as Rick said they are?” Christine challenged.

“I’d rather not find out today.” Liz answered. Many of the people, Negan and Rick’s included, looked absolutely dumbfounded at the sight of the semi-truck. She killed the engine, searching for Rick. For a moment, she couldn’t find him – the crowd surrounding them was so dense that all the faces blurred together. As she scanned the crowd, her eyes locked with Rick’s just as the door ripped open beside her.

“Get out, sweetheart,” a scrawny blonde man sneered up at her.

She jumped down, pushing the keys into his hand when he stuck it out like a belligerent child. She looked him over slowly, carefully – not to appear insolent, but just enough for the man to know she wasn’t exactly scared. Mark and Christine flanked her sides as she went around the truck. She noted Alex parking the car they left in on the grass, before getting out slowly.  

The blonde man followed her as she made her way to the back of the truck, he was so close that he stepped on the backs of her shoes twice – intentionally, it appeared. He became impatient and pushed between Christine and Liz, elbowing her as he passed.

“Open it.” He accentuated every word, like they were stupid. 

“I’d be happy to. But, you’ve got the keys,” Christine said, shrugging her shoulders.

Christine had this way about her that Liz envied, she had mastered the art of casual contempt. She could appear sweet and compromising, but everyone knew she was laughing at you on the inside. Liz, on the other hand, was only known for her temper.

He held the keys out to Christine, but snatched them back before she could take them. _Childish_ , Liz thought.

“Dwight – quit the foreplay, give the lady her keys,” a deep voice called behind them.

Liz resisted turning around, though Christine and Mark did so. She knew who that voice belonged to – it had to be the leader.

Just then, Dwight tossed the keys to Christine while she was turned, clearly intending for them to smack her in the head, a self-satisfied smirk donning his face, or what was left of it. However, the keys never hit their mark because Christine caught them with her back still turned, mere centimeters before they were to connect with her head. Now it was Christine’s turn to smirk, and Liz’s too. These assholes had no fucking idea what they were capable of. But, Liz made a mental note to add Dwight’s name to the top of the list of people she intended to butcher before she left this world, though she knew Christine would probably fight her for the honor.

Christine approached the lock, her eyes never leaving Dwight’s, who faltered momentarily under her gaze. Looks like the man with half a face wasn’t so brave after all. The pressure was on, that was for sure. Christine swung open the back of the truck, a triumphant smile gracing her features.

They all stepped back and a silence fell over everyone in Alexandria. For a moment, it was too quiet and Liz tried to calm her nerves. But then, she heard laughter. 

“H-o-l-y **shit** , Rick! These people put yours to shame. This must be embarrassing for you,” she heard footsteps behind her and could see the shadow of a man approaching. She glanced at Rick, he looked like he was holding back for his dear life. “Where’d you find them?”

“They found us,” Rick said evenly.

Liz turned to find a man approaching them. He rubbed his salt and pepper beard, stopping so close to them that Alex and Mark almost collided with him as they were walking to join the other Alexandrians.

She took him all in, the motorcycle jacket, the leather glove, the way he moved – everything about him screamed pompous asshole. Her assessment was cut short, however, when several of his men pushed past her – diving into the semi-truck like a bunch of rich housewives at a sample sale.

Liz started to move away, deciding it best she not call too much attention to herself. But, just as she did, Negan turned and walked directly into her path, causing her to take an involuntary step back. He noticed something in the semi-truck and whistled in approval, his eyes locking on hers.

“Well, hang on…what is this?” He kept advancing, causing her move back until his hand landed with a thud on a decaying cardboard box that had “X-rated” scribbled in red ink on the front. “Is this for me?”

With one hand, he yanked the box forward, intrigued by it. Wasting no time, he shoved his hand inside, rattling the box in exaggeration, digging around like child would in a toy box. Then, he pulled out a DVD with an image of a woman getting plowed from behind. The lines around his eyes crinkled as he smiled, before clutching the DVD to his chest.

“You trying to tell me something?” He asked with a wink. As Christine walked by, Liz made sure she glared daggers in her direction.

“You said ‘interesting.’ So, we got creative,” Liz said, her eyes not leaving Christine’s, who by all accounts appeared to find the exchange amusing. His brows shot up in surprise when she spoke.

“You’re a long way from home, pretty eyes” his head tilted ever so slightly and he barred his perfect teeth in a smile that looked empty more than anything else.

She shrugged and made her way over to Rick, who stood helplessly by as Negan’s men raided the trucks and their homes. He looked at her, she could see just how glad he was that they made it back in time. She could only imagine what sort of torment Negan was subjecting them to before they arrived.

 _Thank you_ , Rick mouthed to her. She nodded before taking her place beside him. All of them stood there, watching Negan’s men ransack the contents of the semi-truck, hooting and hollering over the items in there. So, they had made an impression – hopefully one that spared the lives of the good people here.

Clearly, Negan and his Saviors had enough not to worry about essential items or food. She wondered if he was growing his own, or stealing from others. She would have to find out. Speaking of food, that reminded her…

“Rick,” Liz whispered. “Ask him if we can keep the gardening stuff we found. We need it to grow food.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Negan called out from the truck. He hadn’t moved from the same spot when he first approached her, she hadn’t noticed he was watching them.

Liz looked at Rick. He needed to be the one to ask, to assert himself as the leader – even if just a bit.

“I asked you a question,” his expression faded, his whole face darkening drastically. His fingers wound around the baseball bat. _What a change in demeanor_ , Liz thought.

“We want to keep the gardening supplies we found. We need to grow food and you said we could keep all of ours for the time being.”

Liz didn’t like the mischievous glint that hit his eyes the moment she finished her explanation. A man approached him with the box of seeds and Negan took it, turning it upside down so that all the contents fell on the ground. Then, without breaking eye contact, he tossed the box aside nonchalantly.

“These?” He finally asked in mock-innocence, pointing his atrocious baseball bat at the seeds.

“Yes.” She said through gritted teeth. He smiled, clearly loving every minute of riling her up. The baseball bat twirled in his hand and that smug smile creased into a menacing frown as he looked at Rick.

“You know what I think? I think I’m going to let you keep them, including the bags of shit and shovels in here because these people came out of fucking nowhere and pulled it together in ways your fucking people couldn’t, Rick. That truck full of Band-Aids and expired beans your people brought back was fucking embarrassing. So, take a page out of their books and hustle, man, or you know what happens next.”

When Rick didn’t answer right away, Negan moved stealthily towards him, bringing the bat to Rick’s chin, just close enough that the barbed wire grazed his beard. She could see Rick’s lip curling in anger – perhaps there was still some fight left him.

“What do we say, Rick?” Negan said, his tone dripping with condescension.

Rick bowed his head, his jaw working hard to contain himself. Then, he made eye contact with Negan, his features falling into defeat.

“Thank you,” Rick said after a moment.

Negan laughed, and so did some of his men, who had stopped ransacking the truck to watch the spectacle before them.

“Where’d you fine people get all this stuff?” Negan asked, looking over to Alex and Mark, who were angrily watching the men dig through the trucks. Liz noted that their idea of “half” differed substantially from everyone else’s. They weren’t leaving much behind, and her people had spent five days tracking walkers and scaling the rooftops of buildings so these pricks could play video games while they parked their asses on their brand new couches.

“The city,” Mark answered, not taking his eyes off them.

Negan did a double-take, then tossed his head back in an infuriatingly cocky laugh. 

“You all went into the city? That’s fucked, man. Did any of your people die getting Davey his new Xbox? I’d really love to know.”

“No.” Christine answered, her face unreadable.

“Un-fucking-believable!” Negan exclaimed. A few of his men laughed too, squawking like a bunch of animals. “Shame you all wound up here. You would do well with us.”

 _Yeah fucking right_ , Liz thought. 

“You don’t think so?” He pointed the baseball bat at Alex, who glanced her way. “Don’t look at her, I’m asking you a question, boy.”

“I like it here,” is all Alex said. Alex wasn’t much of a talker and he avoided conversations where he could. 

“Here?” Negan asked, skeptically. Alex said nothing in response, instead eyeing his wife Delia at a distance. Delia stood on the porch of their house, with the kids at her side. “Well, your loss.”

Negan took one last look in the trucks before telling his people to pack it up. Whatever they didn’t need, they tossed out carelessly, breaking many of the supplies in the process. Mark scoffed, looking at her for direction. She wanted to badly fuck these guys up too, but they had all the guns and twice their numbers.

Just then, Liz heard her name being called in the distance and the blood drained from her face as she saw Kayla approaching at a fast pace. Many of the men didn’t pay her any notice, but one man stopped to look. She didn’t like the way he way he was looking at an eight year old girl.

“Not now. Go back to Delia, monkey.” She tried to keep her voice even, but panic settled in as she met Kayla half way. She kept her eyes trained on the man, who had started towards them.

Kayla went to protest, but one look from Liz and she was already starting her way back. Christine called it her “mom” look. And although she was Kayla’s older sister, Liz had assumed the parenting role, considering their parents’ selfish decision to leave them.

As Liz turned around, she saw the man’s eyes roam over the tiny form of her sister and everything inside her constricted in agony and white, hot anger. This man needed to die. _Now_.

“Is that your little girl?” He man asked, licking his lips. Everything, even his voice, sounded disturbed.

“Don’t even fucking look at her,” Liz sneered. Rick appeared beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

“Liz” Rick warned sympathetically. “It won’t be much longer, they’re packing up.”

The man continued to approach them until he was mere inches in front of her. He smiled crookedly, and she could see all the terrible things he’d done in his eyes. All the terrible things he wanted to do.

“What a pretty little _monkey_ ” he whispered, taunting her.

And, just like that, she felt something snap inside her. Before she knew what was happening, her fist connected with his nose, causing a rush of blood to shoot up her sleeve from the force of the blow. He yelped, crumbling to the ground as he brought his hands to his nose. She could see blood dripping through the cracks of his fingers. He whined like a wounded dog.

She shook the blood off of her hand just as she heard the unmistakable sound of guns clicking into place. _Cowards._

“Nope. We don’t do that, doll.” Negan said, swinging the bat over one shoulder as he approached her.

“Put a leash on your dogs and I won’t have to.” She seethed, pointing her blood soaked hand at the man who stumbled to his feet.

“She didn’t know – she -” Rick defended, trying to placate the angry dictator. Negan held up a finger, effectively silencing Rick.

“I’ll say it again since you folks are new here, first one’s free.” Negan began, pointing the bat at her. Her gaze followed the tip of the baseball bat up to his knuckles, travelling upwards until her eyes locked with his. He opened his mouth and Liz could see a lengthy monologue was about to ensue. She wasn’t in the mood for it so she pushed the bat aside and took a step forward.

“If this pedophile ever steps foot inside these walls again, I will put him down without a second thought about it. First one’s free,” she mocked, “Your stupid dog didn’t know any better. But if I ever see him again, if I ever see him looking at my baby sister like that– I will give whole new meaning to castration anxiety.”

She braced herself to dodge a blow but to her surprise, Negan looked over at the man, who cowered back in fear. Negan’s eyes went from disbelief to anger in a matter of seconds. Was this man unaware of the activities of his legion of wild animals? Perhaps he didn’t have the amount of control he thought he did?

“What’d I tell you about that?” He said, gesturing for Dwight to come over. "I told you, you don’t do that. _Ever_.”

The man let out a fearful groan, muttering incoherently as Dwight pushed him in the direction of one of their trucks.

“I apologize, sweetheart,” Negan began. “Davey here won’t be a problem, I’ll make sure of it. And because you all pulled through for me this week, I’m not going to go too hard on you all for this. But, I can’t just let you get away with punching my men like that, so!” He reached forward and grabbed her wrist. “You’re coming with me!”

“It’s a no from me, dawg.” Liz said, twisting out of his grip effortlessly. Surprise passed over his face before it settled back into its usual smugness.

“I get it, you need time to process that,” He pointed a gloved finger at her. At this proximity, she could see the creases in the glove and bits of red stains that were obviously dried blood. “And I’d hate for the quiet one to lose his life because you decided to be stubborn. But, you’re gonna have to come with us. Don’t worry, I’m just going to borrow you for a few days, but you’re welcome to extend your stay as long as you want. I get the feeling you’re gonna want to.”

She felt a witty retort threatening to spill out, but the rational part of her pulled the brakes. She thought of the possibilities – this man was a pig, clearly. If she freed her long black hair from its braid and pulled her shirt down just a bit, he’d be senseless with desire. So senseless that he’d probably make a mistake and let his guard down enough for her to get a good look at their compound, his people and their weaknesses. Just the sort of information she would need to kill him and his wild dogs.

“I’ll do it. Nobody has to die,” Liz said, crossing her arms tightly in a way that accentuated her breasts. His gaze dropped immediately before flickering to her lips. Then, a slow, lazy grin spread across his face. His fingers reached out, curling under her elbow as he yanked her forward, urging her to follow. As she walked back to the truck, Liz realized she was calm – calmer than she had been in days.

He held the door open for her, unabashedly checking her out.

“Thank you,” she said, plastering the sweetest little smile she could muster as she climbed in, thinking of all the ways she was going to fuck this man’s life up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think. :)


	3. Girl Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I laughed my way through writing this, procrastinating grad school responsibilities and in anticipation for tomorrow's episode. Please let me know what you think!

Though it lacked the beauty of Alexandria, the Sanctuary was a beast of a compound. To the uninitiated, it was unassuming if not a little disappointing. When they had first rolled up to the thin steel gate that was guarded by a half dozen men, Liz was unimpressed. With the way that Negan and his men carried on, she had expected a palace of sorts. Instead, she was greeted by a partially built factory with only a cracked sculpture of a praying woman as a welcoming sign. Walkers lined the insides of the gates as did more of his men, who were either on the lookout or binding walkers to the fences. However, her budding disappointment all but evaporated as they passed through a series of check points, each one becoming more and more sophisticated – as did the compound.

As they drove in, Liz realized the Sanctuary was a series of manufacturing plants that were in the process of expanding before the world ended. Heavily armed men were on the lookout on top of the rooves, scaffoldings and gates in larger numbers than she had seen since New York. Despite the sophistication, Liz noted some blind spots and poor organization. The snipers were obvious, and some of the men looked like they had never held a gun in their lives. No cameras either. If you were fast – and Liz was fast - you could get between buildings without being noticed.

Her eyes flickered between the buildings and she noted that they still had the outlines of the logos from the companies that once owned them, but the logos themselves had been removed. Instead, numbers and jargon of what she presumed was his internal hierarchy were spray-painted over. She made a mental note to figure out what each meant and what was inside.

Her thoughts were cut short as the truck slowed to a stop in front of one of the nicer buildings, a glassy white multi-story with floor to ceiling windows gracing the entrance. Liz squinted in disbelief when her eyes happened upon a man mowing the grass out front.

The men piled out of the trucks, talking amongst themselves. Just then, she felt Negan’s lips at her ear.

“Much as I know you’d like to spend your day sitting here, I have shit to do,” Negan whispered in a harsh tone. He gave her hip a good pat, gesturing for her to get up.

He had insisted she sit on his lap the entire back to the Sanctuary in that god-awful truck, with no air-conditioning to speak of. If that wasn’t bad enough, she had to listen as his men ranked the women of Alexandria from most to least fuckable while Negan’s breath tickled the back of her neck for the entirety of the long drive.

She jumped down, happy to be free of him. Negan, on the other hand, laughed as he got out of the truck before waltzing inside, hardly casting a glance her way. For a few moments, Liz didn’t know what to do with herself until she felt the cool barrel of a gun press into her shoulder.

“This way, _honey_.” Dwight snarled, pushing her towards the entrance Negan had just walked into.

Liz thought happy thoughts that involved maiming Dwight until he begged for death as she walked up the steps into the building. Dwight followed closely behind, directing her through the hallways and stairwells. She kept track of her surroundings, remembering the twists and turns, the number of floors and the people, just in case she had to get out.

They had passed through another checkpoint – that made three since they had entered this building alone, into a long, quiet hallway. She looked out the windows as they walked, taking in the compound. It was massive and they did, in fact, appear to be growing some of their own food.

“We’re here,” Dwight said, walking in front of her. He looked her over slowly, showcasing what he probably thought was an intimidating gaze. Instead, he appeared frail and childish, just as he did at Alexandria.

“Where’s here?” Liz asked, her back straight and her head high.

He opened a door, bowing his head in an exaggerated gesture of courtesy. She rolled her eyes as she walked into the room. She wasn’t surprised when it slammed shut and locked behind her. The room itself, however, caught her by surprise. Every inch of the room was lavishly decorated with plush curtains, bookcases, couches…. _What in the_ …

“Hey,” a somber voice called out.

Liz had hardly noticed the woman curled up on one of the couches with a book in hand. She was clean, wearing a pretty sun dress with her feet tucked under her. Liz couldn’t help but look over her own disheveled appearance, rubbing at a grease stain on her forearm, willing it out of her skin.

“I’m Sherry,” she said, starting towards her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming otherwise we would have made room for you. What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth,” Liz said, looking around the room.

“Elizabeth,” Sherry repeated with a small smile. “I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

The luxury was deceiving, something more sinister was here, Liz decided.

Sherry knocked on one of the doors that was adjacent to the room they were in and a petite blonde answered, her eyes downcast. Sherry turned slightly, and the woman looked over at Liz before quietly moving across the room towards a pitcher of water.

“Amber, this is Elizabeth.” She said, gesturing to her. Amber nodded, offering the weakest smile in history. Liz noted her tear-stained cheeks.

“Amber will show you around and go over the rules,” Sherry said, giving Liz’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she walked by, though it didn’t escape her notice that Sherry looked at her hand after, to make sure it wasn’t dirty from touching her.

Liz’s eyes flickered over to Amber, who was pouring a glass of water, also wearing a pretty dress.

“Sherry.”

Sherry stopped, turning back towards Liz in confusion.

“No dresses please,” Liz said, as calmly as she could muster. She realized what this place was. The man had some nerve brining her here.

Sherry looked like she was about to protest, but merely nodded before knocking on the door. She was let out seconds later.

“Here,” Amber said in a small voice as she handed her the glass, but didn’t let go immediately when Liz took it. “You really should have asked for a dress, he likes dresses.”

“Not sure I care what he likes,” Liz retorted instantly. Amber flinched, looking away.

With her thirst getting the better of her, Liz downed the glass. When she finished, she went to place it on the table next to her but Amber quickly rushed to place a coaster under it. _Oh my fucking God_ , she screamed internally.

“Elizabeth, if…” Amber trailed off. They stood eye to eye, but that was the only thing they had in common. Amber’s pale blue eyes, short blonde hair and porcelain skin stood in stark contrast to Liz’s jet black mane and tan skin. “If you want to last here, you should do what he likes. It’s easier that way. Actually, I’m kind of glad you’re here.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s for selfish reasons, mostly,” Amber said, picking at her fingernails. “The other girl isn’t able to keep up and she’s so scared, she keeps crying and setting him off. We all protect each other, the best we can. You look like you can handle yourself, I’m hoping you can keep him occupied while she settles in. I know that’s an ugly thing to ask, but we’ll take care of you, too.”

Her explanation sounded more like a plea for help. Liz carefully looked over Amber’s trembling form and for once, she had nothing to say. She thought she had seen it all out there, thought she had felt it all – and just when she thought the world couldn’t get more fucked up than it is, the world had to send a painful reminder it had more in store.

“Anyway,” Amber murmured, wiping her nose. “You probably want to wash up. Our bathroom is over here.”

“How many are you? Three?” Liz blurted, her own voice sounded far away – foreign.

“Five,” Amber confirmed, turning away.

Liz cast her a sympathetic glance. _Of course_ , Liz thought. It made sense that a man like Negan would have a bunch of women catering to his every demand. Her eyes focused on Amber’s wrists and ankles, looking for ligature marks, though she was surprised to find none.

Just then, Liz heard the door open and Sherry re-entered, carrying a change of clothes and towels. Sherry didn’t break stride, instead she walked the length of the room, pushing the items into Liz’s arms before directing her to the bathroom.

“Please shower. He’s coming and…” Sherry cast Amber a glance, “He’s not in a good mood. We’ll keep him busy until you’re done.”

Liz looked between the women before Sherry sent her a pleading glance, informing her that this wasn’t the time to question it. Liz nodded, stepping into the bathroom.  

She heard Amber burst into tears as the door slid shut.

***

She stood in the center of the room with her arms crossed, bored with the spectacle before her. She looked at Sherry, who had resumed her book on another couch. However, Liz could tell she was simply trying to appear distracted as Sherry had been reading the same page for ten minutes and casting nervous glances towards Liz every so often.

Amber was nowhere to be found. In her stead was a brunette with one hell of a rack, dressed in black, lacy lingerie and draped over Negan’s lap.

The brunette let out an exaggerated squeal of delight as Negan’s gloved hand connected with her bare ass, spanking her for the fourth time. The two looked to be enjoying themselves quite a bit. He murmured something to her and she nodded fervently, arching her ass up further.

They carried on, as if Liz wasn’t standing there examining them. Negan hadn’t acknowledged her existence since they arrived at the Sanctuary, and this game was getting a bit old for her taste.

While showering, Liz heard Negan enter, followed by shouting – lots of it and mostly from him. Amber had fucked up badly, Liz assumed, judging by the bits of conversation she overheard and crying and pleading from the other side of the door. She struggled to push the voices out of her head, instead concentrating on scrubbing five days of dirt and Davey’s blood off her skin. When she exited the bathroom, he looked to be in better spirits, with a brunette straddling him excitedly.

“One more?” The brunette begged, craning her head to look at him. He raised his hand this time locking eyes with Liz. Then, his hand came down on the brunette’s ass once more. Another giggle erupted from the brunette, but Negan didn’t break eye contact with Liz. Slowly, his expression went from playful to serious as he examined Liz, as if dissecting every inch of her. _That’s rich_ , Liz thought. One look inside her head and she was certain he would run in the other direction.

“Alright sweetheart, you’re good to go,” he said as he massaged her swollen cheeks, clearly proud of himself. The brunette stood up and winked at him, before she exited through one of the doors.

“You tell her the rules?” He asked Sherry.

“Didn’t get a chance to,” Sherry explained as she fidgeted nervously with the book.

“That won’t be necessary,” Liz interjected. She shifted her weight onto her other foot, impatient.

“Give us a minute,” he said gruffly to Sherry, who all but dove out of the room before he finished his sentence. Then, it was only the two of them and the bloodied bat that was perched against the side of the couch. Liz wondered who got it…Amber? Another one of his men? A prisoner?

The room was quiet, save for the sound of the crinkling of his leather jacket as he stood. He made his way over to her slowly in a deliberate attempt to taunt her. When he was mere inches from her, he looked down, towering over her. The man wielded space like he owned every inch of the universe, taking up all of it and leaving nothing for the rest of them. She resisted flinching under his steely gaze, noting his hazel eyes were clouded with anger and…something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

His hand reached out and he ran his fingers through her damp hair in what would have been an intimate gesture if not for the anger in his eyes.

“You’re really pushing it,” he began, “Keep it up and I’m going to punish you.”

“What about Davey?” Liz said, undeterred. “Will he be punished as well?”

“You questioning how I run my people, doll?”

“Just curious,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I see Davey is a problem for you – man like that, if you can call him a man. Sounds like he doesn’t like rules either, huh?”

“Did you not hear what I just said,” he asked in disbelief. “Or do I need to show you-“

She snorted, effectively silencing him. He looked down at her, first in what appeared to be a mix of impressed and shocked, then his lip curled into an amused sneer. She wondered if she went too far, first punching Davey and then being insolent with him.

His eyes slid shut and he cracked his neck – yep, she went too far.

Without warning, he grabbed a clump of her hair, forcing her to her knees. It didn’t hurt so much as it shocked her. Her knees hit the floor with a thud and she felt the reverberations throughout her body.

“Don’t fucking move,” he ordered before walking over to one of the tables.

Liz watched as he poked around, humming to himself and opening a few drawers, clearly in search of something. She didn’t dare say anything. As much as she enjoyed toying with him, she knew he could only be pushed so far and that she had stupidly pushed the thin boundaries this man had in place.

He stilled when he found whatever it was he was looking for before tucking it into his hand and walking back to her.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” he said, leaning forward, “and put this in your mouth for me.”

His fingers uncurled, revealing a rag that was thankfully clean. Her lips pursed into a line and she glared up at him. They stared at each other in a game of chicken, neither willing to budge.

“You having trouble? Cause if you are, I can always get one of the guys working the pits to come up here and help you. Then, I’ll bash his fucking skull in with ole’ Lucille over here and make you watch the whole thing.” He paused, flashing his perfect teeth. “Go ahead, call my bluff. Boy, do I ever want you to.”

Liz stared at the rag, imagining herself skinning Negan alive from his big toe right to his scalp. He would pay for this bullshit, but not today.

She plucked the rag out of his hand, examining it.

“I gave you chances, sweetheart. You didn’t want to listen. Now, put that in your pretty little mouth so we can start.”

Her fist clenched around the rag, before loosening. This man got off on her anger as much as she did on his, she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got under her skin. Hell, it wasn’t the worst thing she had to do during the zombie apocalypse, that was for sure. But, her pride suffered.

Liz thought of her options. Maybe, just maybe, she could reach Lucille before he did…or she could smash his face in with the glass pitcher before scaling down the side of the building. Though, she wouldn’t get so far, not when the sun was still high in the sky.

“ _Now_ ,” he growled, growing impatient.

She brought the rag to her lips, slowly inserting it into her mouth. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling with satisfaction. The man clearly loved her on her knees, shoving things into her mouth. _Bastard_ , she thought.

Just then, Negan reached forward with two fingers and stuffed the remainder of the rag into her mouth with one rough poke.

“Better,” he said, straightening. “Isn’t this better? I can finally hear myself talk now without you yapping in my ear about shit you aren’t even in a position to fucking question me about.”

Liz saw red – burning, hot, flaming red.

“Here are the rules. Try to keep up, sugar tits, I fucking hate repeating myself,” he said, his playful tone returning.

“ _So_ , as I was saying…First rule, no lies – ever.” He said with a swipe of his hand. “Think you can bullshit me?” he pointed a finger at her, gesturing up and down to her appearance. “Sweetheart, you have no fucking clue who I am, clearly. Two, I tell you to do something, you do it – no bellyaching, no hesitation. I want you to trapeze that beautiful ass into a walker hoard with nothing but a butter knife? Your ass best trapeze!”

He walked back to the couch, grabbing a bottle of liquor on his way.

“Three,” he said, with his back turned as he raised three gloved fingers. “Never forget your place here. You aren’t one of my wives, hell you aren’t anything but my prisoner for the next few days. Don’t start thinking your opinion matters to me. Finally, you ever pull the shit you pulled with Davey again, I’m going to make an example out of your friends and then we’ll see how fucking ballsy you are when everyone you love is reduced to a pile of entrails. Understood?”

He lowered himself back onto the couch, smiling at her kneeling form.

Successive rapid-fire images of Liz brutally murdering him in creative ways clouded her vision.

“Do you understand?” He asked, his tone condescending.

She gave him a thumbs up.

“Good,” he grinned. “Now, you’ll keep that in your mouth until I’ve decided you learned your lesson.”

He poured a glass of the dark liquor, reclining on the couch as he watched Liz with amusement. 

“By the way, you look great on your knees.” He raised his glass to her before taking the shot.

***

For the last thirty minutes, Negan “read” a book. And by read, Liz meant, turn each page slowly with a menacing grin as he watched her, clearly loving every second of torturing her. She kept her eyes trained on him but she didn’t dare move. Her mouth was dry and her knees ached, but she tried to stay firm.

Suddenly, Negan tossed the book aside and stood.

“You’re a real fucking champ, you know that? No tears, nothing.”

 _Please die,_ Liz thought.

“Up,” he commanded.

She rose to her feet slowly, her joints aching. She wasn’t fast enough for his liking, so he grabbed her arm and hauled her up straight. His gloved hand wrapped around the rag, pulling it out of her mouth. A dark smile graced his features as he looked her over.

Skin him alive? Castrate him? Douse him in rocket fuel and light him on fire? _So many possibilities_ , Liz thought.

“Now that that’s been settled,” he pushed her damp hair back, his finger running along the small tattoo that sat at the base of her neck near her hair line. “What the hell is that?”

“A tattoo,” she deadpanned.

He held up the rag in a silent warning and Liz straightened, meeting his gaze.

“It’s a dead parrot,” she explained.

He brought the rag up to her face, right under her nose, humming as he did so. She could smack him in that instant.

“You know Monty Python?” she asked, after a moment. “The dead parrot sketch? Some friends and I got it because it was one of our favorite vintage comedy sketches and we were like, sixteen and drunk at the time.” It was partly true, though she would go no further.

“That sure as hell doesn’t look like a parrot. I mean, have you seen it? I thought it was a piece of fucking dirt,” Negan taunted.

Liz sighed. Mr. Alpha Male had to be an ass about everything it seems.

“You’ve made your point. I hear you loud and clear,” she said. As much as she wanted to engage in a battle of the wits, she was dying to get a look around.

“Do you really?” He asked, tossing the rag over his shoulder.

“Yes,” she said in an attempt to sound accommodating…in her own way. Mom used to say Liz was two parts stubborn, one part fire and cooked on high intensity. Accommodation wasn’t her strong suit.

“Why’d you bring me here?” She decided to change the topic but regretted her decision immediately when he smiled and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. _Well, he certainly isn't subtle_ , Liz thought.

“I’m a businessman,” he began, his smile widening into an ear-to-ear grin, “And what the hell, they don’t make pretty like you anymore so…I’ve got a few proposals for you. You know, mutually beneficial shit.”

Liz squinted knowing that every one of those “business proposals” were going to be a far cry from mutually beneficial.

“Your first option – you spend the duration of your sentence working the pits like the rest of those sad fucks out there. It’s a long shift, sweetheart - no potty breaks and there’s no workplace insurance if you get eaten by walkers. Or, two, you spend one night with me and I’ll forget what you did to Davey’s face.” He finished with his usual smirk.

 _So tempting_ , Liz thought sardonically. 

They were standing so close that Liz was forced to look up at him, though it was hardly as intimidating as it was the first time.

“I’ll work the pits,” Liz said, without missing a beat.

She expected him to react with anger at her outright rejection. Instead, he merely rubbed his beard, his expression difficult to read.

“You’re gonna drive me fucking crazy, I can tell,” he said lowly as he brushed a few stray strands out of her face. This time she flinched at the rawness of his voice and had to look away, though it wasn’t long before he grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze once more.

“You got a husband or something?” He asked.

“Hell no,” she growled. How could this man be so arrogant so as to think that the only reason she wasn’t falling over herself to be with him was because she was already with someone else? She aspired to be that arrogant one day, it’d be good for her self-esteem.

“Then, what is it? I know you like what you see.” He didn’t let go of her chin but his grip lessened, his fingers trailing down the sides of her neck.

“You and I are not compatible. You like being in charge – I like being in charge. Neither of us would be willing to give that up, so why even entertain the possibility?”

“You aren’t wrong, sweetheart,” his hand drew small circles, teasing the sensitive parts of her neck. “But think about how much fun we could have together.”

He tried to close the distance between them but she pulled back.

“You mean, how much fun you could have with my body?” She said, flatly. She wouldn’t deny it, he was good looking, but the terms of his arrangement were undoubtedly one-sided. Nobody had to tell her that, it was written all over this place. All over him. She knew her limits, and that would push them well beyond reason.

“Careful, you might end up having fun too.” His free hand wrapped around her waist, yanking her close to him.

Liz couldn’t help but find the entire exchange ridiculous. And they said women had mood swings? This man was a rollercoaster ride through hell. One minute, he was laughing and the next? Ready to kill her for the slightest indiscretion.

“So, what do you say?” He asked roughly.

Liz pressed herself into him, feeling his erection against her stomach. She leaned her head back, to get a good look at his face as she said it.

“I’m a child of god,” she whispered in a serious tone.

His expression, clouded with arousal, faded into amusement. He tossed his head back, laughing. 

“Child of god – she says! Ah, doll. You’re a tease if there ever was one.” He broke away from her, still chuckling.

A twinge of disappointment hit her stomach, it didn’t quite play off as she intended to. She expected more begging.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Dwight will show you to your room – not this one – and I just gotta say, I’m real sorry that pretty backside has to sleep on a dirty floor for the next few days, but hey, that’s your fucking choice. Girl power!”

Well, _shit_.


	4. Rage, Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

The pits, as they were called, appeared to have been conjured out of the mind of a truly sadistic fuck. _This had Negan written all over it_ , Liz thought.

A promotion of existential dread and human suffering, the pits were nothing more than jobs assigned to the lowest of the pecking order within Negan’s Sanctuary. They involved a variety of tasks, the most prominent being pulling walkers out of moat like trenches of different heights and widths that were dug around the compound. It wasn’t simply a matter of pulling the walkers out and killing them – no. Rather, the point was to pull them out and lead them back to areas within the compound where they would be tied to fences.

The pits served a dual purpose. For starters, it certainly would deter anyone from breaking in, lest they get eaten by walkers before the snipers got them. However, its other purpose was far more sinister, for it sent a reminder to all the occupants of the Sanctuary that Negan was an unavoidable force of nature. Many of the women and men working here had wronged Negan and the upper echelon of his society in some way, including people who failed to pay their dues, or who were behind on “points,” as many had put it.

Liz grabbed a walker by the hair, dragging the dead woman out of one of the pits. The walker gurgled and snapped its teeth at her, missing both eyes but still knowing where flesh was. She bagged its head quickly, giving it a rough shove towards one of the gates. It fell over, struggling to stand once more in slow, shaky movements as its decaying hand reached for her. Liz could hear its teeth chattering under the bag as it started towards her. She prodded its back with a stick, directing it back on course as she led it to the fences.

She used the length of the stick to keep the walker at a distance while she tossed a chain around its neck. Using her strength, she forced it to the fence, linking the restraints in place with relative ease. As she removed the bag from its head, its empty eyes fell on her, releasing an animalistic groan. The heat made the decaying flesh stink worse than she was accustomed to but she didn’t dare show it to the audience that had gathered.

Through the fence, she could see Dwight watching her. He was flanked by his cronies, who had been placing bets on the unfortunate souls working the pits, Liz included. Dwight, however, had not taken part in it. Instead, he watched her, his eyes devoid of the childish condescension she was familiar with. In its place was a certain appraisal – like she had passed a test...Though what, she couldn’t say.

“No!” she heard a woman scream.

Liz spun on her heel towards the sound. Her eyes refocused under the blazing sun on a pair of bodies a few feet away from her. An older gentleman had slipped into one of the deeper pits and was haphazardly pushing walkers away, trying to climb out. Above him, a younger woman had her arms extended, pleading and sobbing for him to take her hand.

Most carried on like nothing was happening, shuffling between the pits and the fences in complete silence, save for a few like Liz who had stopped to watch. Assistance was forbidden – another senseless rule only meant to torment folks here. Dwight and his friends had made their way over, imitating the woman’s cries and laughing through the fence at the miserable sight before them.

“Pa – my hand!” the woman shrieked over their taunts.

The man had reached for it just as Liz heard the bittersweet sound of a shotgun go off. She couldn’t pry her eyes away as the woman fell forward, her entire chest exploding. Her father and the walkers were showered with blood and bits of the woman’s ribcage. She convulsed in shock for a few seconds, her eyes emptying of life. The man let out a broken sob, realizing it was over for them both. Then, she went limp, falling onto her father as the walkers descended upon them. He didn’t fight back when they clawed at his limbs.

“You see that!” A man called out with delight from one of the lookouts.

Liz looked up to find one of the guards holding a smoking shotgun triumphantly. He had shot the woman in the back as she was trying to help her father out of the pits for no other reason than he could. These were Negan’s people – this is who the ‘Saviors’ were. They weren’t trying to put the world back together, they were probably beside themselves when it fell apart.

“Get back to work, shit stains!” The man yelled after a moment, pointing his gun towards Liz and a few others who were standing by.

She started back towards the pits, locking eyes with a young man dragging a walker. She could tell he hated this place and these people. Hell, Liz hated this place and she hadn’t even been there for twenty-four hours, she couldn’t imagine how much anger and rage resided in the people here. She wondered if they all hated it here…she wondered if they would turn on Negan, if given the right push.

She looked over her shoulder, back towards where Dwight was standing. His friends laughed all around him, slapping each other on the back and pointing at the people working the pits. He was staring at the pit where the man and his daughter had been consumed and Liz was caught off guard for what she observed in those blue orbs of his. Dwight’s eyes betrayed his stoic demeanor. In them, she saw a hatred unparalleled to anything she had seen before. His eyes locked with hers and Liz thought he would turn away, concealing his true emotions. But he didn’t. Instead, he simply nodded.

 _Just the right push_ , Liz thought.

***

She stood in line, waiting for leftovers from dinner service with the rest of the people working pit duty. Ahead of her was a burly, bald man – a real Frankenstein looking fellow, whose grip on the cafeteria tray was so tight she could see every vein in his hand and forearm popping. Every so often, he would turn slightly and glance at her in curiosity.

“I bet you want to know how a girl could be second in line,” Liz said as she dragged her tray along the metal counter top.

Negan had exaggerated, probably thinking it would have influenced her decision to spend a night with him. Workers were given breaks and food, but it was dependent upon productivity. Those that performed well were afforded longer breaks and given priority when it came to the leftovers. Those that didn’t had to work long hours in the heat and weren’t guaranteed food at the end of the day. It ensured those at the bottom could never beat the system. They were all too weak to work effectively. In essence, the pits were a death sentence for some. 

Liz had been productive – in fact, she made a point of showing off. When the men had taunted her, she chained two walkers at once. That had shut them up. However, at the end of the day, she was still second in line, bested by the man before her. She couldn’t lie, she was impressed and wanted to know more about him. She could tell he was impressed by her, as well.

Two of the women working the cafeteria emerged from out back, carrying a giant pot. They didn’t make eye contact, instead sorting things behind the counter in silence. Liz stared at the pot, this was all there was for over fifty people working the pits today.

The women began gesturing for the trays.

“Just wondering how you ended up here, is all,” the man said, as they passed their trays over.

“I broke Davey’s nose,” Liz said with a terrible grin. The man gave her a good look over in amusement.

“That was you?” He chuckled. The women dumped slop into their trays, tossing the leftovers and stale bread to them as if they were trash.

“What?” Liz began, “I think he looks better with the…improvements I made to his face.”

The man shook his head as they made their way over to one of the empty tables. Dinner service had ended and most of the cafeteria was vacant, save for a few stragglers who were eating alone.

“What’d you do to end up working the pits, friend?” Liz asked, dipping a piece of stale bread into the slop.

“Nothing,” he grunted. “I work them for extra points. And because…most of them out there have no idea what they’re doing.”

“So, you want to help people?” Liz asked, popping the bread into her mouth.

The man only shrugged in response.

“I’m Liz,” she said after a moment.

“Ben,” he replied as he chewed. His incredible jaw worked, the veins in his neck protruding. The man was enormous. It was no wonder he did well out there.

“Ben, tell me…You know your way around this _beautiful_ place?” she asked casually, gesturing to the ugly cafeteria. Ben stopped eating, his eyes trained on his plate. Then, his upper lip curled into a smile before it disappeared.

“That’ll do you no good, I’m afraid,” he said, his tone knowing. “You’ve got balls for even asking.”

“Humor me,” she responded, propping both her elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“You don’t even know me,” Ben said as he shook his head. “How do you know I won’t run and tell the boss you want to go poking around?”

“Because Ben, you hate it here. It’s all over your face and the charity work you’ve been doing in the pits is evidence of that,” Liz said lowly. She resumed eating as one of the guards walked by, waiting for him to get out of earshot.

She went to continue but Ben cut her off as he grabbed a passing woman’s arm.

“Hey Ally,” he said, his voice soft.

The woman barely looked at them, her sunburned hands holding the tray tight to her chest. Her clothes were ripped, revealing dark bruises on her otherwise pale skin. She had a comically small portion of food, a shot of slop and pieces of bread that had been scraped from the bottom of the bag.

“Go see Elis, tell him I sent you for food.” He took the tray away from her and the woman’s shoulders began to shake – she was crying. When Ally didn’t immediately move, Ben leaned forward, trying to get a good look at her face.

“Can y-you come with…me?” Ally all but stuttered as her head titled towards a group of guards leaning against the counters, watching her with ravenous eyes.

Rage burned through her for what felt like the hundredth time that day. This place was so ugly, every inch of it. Humanity had the capacity to be anything it wanted to be – the sky was the limit, as they said – but people still chose to be dirt. They chose to be evil, to be animals without any sense of rationality or morality. Liz wanted to undo all of this. More than that, she wanted justice, if there were such a thing after the world ended.

“Yeah,” Ben said with a nod. He pushed his and Ally’s trays towards Liz before standing up. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength, girl. And don’t go anywhere alone if you can help it.”

With that, they were gone.

***

Liz chose to ignore Ben’s advice. After dinner, she carefully slipped away from the group as they headed back to their cells, using the darkness between buildings to go unnoticed. That wasn’t difficult, however, since most of the guards were inept and appeared to spend most of their time talking shit and joking around. At this point, she wasn’t even trying. She casually walked by a group of guards with their backs turned, baffled when they seemed completely oblivious to her.

Negan ruled with empty threats. The threat of surveillance kept people afraid, never daring to question whether they had something to be afraid of. Hell, she could have driven the blade she stole from the kitchen into their necks and nobody would have noticed. If only the masses realized that.

She shook her head, approaching one building that had caught her eye. She had seen it while working the pits. It was perfect – the doors were on the side of the building in an alley way and faced in the opposite direction of most of the buildings, which meant she could go relatively unnoticed in the pale moonlight. Negan’s people had rotated in and out of the building earlier that day, each time carrying different supplies and weapons. If she was right, it was where they kept their valuable stock – stuff that needed to be accounted for. A good look around would give her some idea of what they were up against.

She let the darkness shield her from sight as she sped across the grass. She made it into a bush near the door just as a group of men walked by the alley, carrying a box towards Negan’s home – the white building at the center of the compound. When she was certain they were out of sight, she crawled out and gave the handle a good shake. It was locked.

 _No matter_ , Liz thought as she unfolded a napkin of items she had swiped throughout the day. It was what Liz and Christine referred to as their “get out of jail” survival kit – everything one needed to pick locks and kill people, and it all fit into your back pocket. Though, they didn’t deserve credit for it. Another survivor, back in New York, had taught them about it. He was a prison guard who confiscated these kits on a daily basis from inmates and had showed them how to make one in the event that they were captured by other groups. Liz had personally never used it – she never had to worry about other groups. Until now.

She glanced over her shoulder quickly, noting that nobody had patrolled the area in more than twenty minutes. Either someone would be coming by shortly or they were that terrible at managing such a large compound.

Liz returned her attention to the lock. It wasn’t anything sophisticated but it wasn’t an easy one either. She began to pick it, carefully inserting some stray wire she had collected from the fences during pit duty. Liz was no stranger to picking locks, though this would take her about ten minutes, maybe more if his people made their way back around in that time.

She became engrossed in the lock, twisting the wires to her desired results, listening as it unwound under her careful instruction. It clicked open just as Liz felt something graze the back of her head.

 _Fuck_.

Her eyes slid shut, realizing her mistake. _Careless_ , she chastised herself.

“Ain’t this a pretty sight,” Negan sneered as he dug Lucille into her shoulder. The barbed wire poked her skin through her flannel shirt, hard enough to make a point but not hard enough to leave a mark. She twisted around to face him, still crouched on the tips of her toes. She looked at him, letting the blade slip out of her sleeve ever so slightly, the tip poking the middle of her palm. She was ready to use it, if need be.

“And here I thought you meant it when you said you got it,” Negan continued, returning Lucille to its usual place on his shoulder. “But I see that was a fucking lie.”

 _Another rule broken_.

“At least we have that in common, we’re both shit at telling the truth,” Liz retorted, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Are you serious? Are you really that fucking…” He trailed off, incredulous. When she didn’t respond, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Liz noted the dark circles that marred his eyes. He didn’t just look tired, he looked exhausted.

“Get up…And drop that god damn knife while you’re at it,” he said, nodding to her sleeve. She let the blade fall, keeping her gaze trained on his as she stood up straight.

They watched each other for a moment in silence, his hazel eyes piercing into her grey ones. Then, he leaned forward and jammed the lock shut.

“I’ve got to give credit where it’s due, people rarely sneak up on me,” Liz said, hoping the compliment would pacify him. But, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t also a bit impressed. She wondered if he had been following her. Or, if this had all been a set up – the lack of security, the bumbling kitchen staff who hardly noticed her grab a knife off the counter in the back, the fact that nobody had reported her missing…Perhaps she had simply walked into it.

He didn’t appear the least bit phased by her comment, his expression impassive. Then, he pointed Lucille in the direction of the cells.

“Get a fucking move on, doll,” he growled.

“I have a name, you know.” Liz folded her arms across her chest as she walked by.  

“Don’t care to know it,” he muttered, his tone rough. He followed behind her, prodding Liz with Lucille much like she did earlier with the walkers. She wondered if he had been watching her then, too.

A heavy silence fell upon them as they crossed the compound. Liz focused on the sound of the grass crunching beneath their boots as they walked to distract her from the situation at hand. A breeze past over them causing Liz to wrap her arms around herself, nightfall in rural Virginia was cool.

Negan was first to speak.

“Explain what the fuck you were doing breaking into that building.”

“I was hungry,” she lied. “I saw people carrying stuff out of there today, I thought maybe I could find some _real_ food. You know, so I don’t collapse while working the pits.”

“My heart bleeds for you, sweetheart. It really does.” He began. “But I did give you a choice.”

They approached the building where the cell block was. Two men stood on guard outside talking, but straightened as they saw Negan approaching. Inside, she could see a few men standing guard, others were standing around a table, looking at something. As she reached for the handle, Negan pushed the door shut, crowding over her. Liz twisted around, leaning into the door so their bodies wouldn’t touch.

“Fact is, people have died for less – way fucking less, than the shit you just pulled. And after the fucking day I’ve had, I have zero interest in micromanaging you but look where we are. So, what the fuck am I going to do with you?” He asked, more to himself than her. He appeared genuinely conflicted, like he didn’t want to do anything to her but had no choice but to.

“Today, one of your men shot a woman in the back for trying to help her father out of a pit.” Liz spat, her anger rising. “Your people were having a blast placing bets on us while they stood there, doing nothing. Then, during dinner, one of the guys escorted a woman to get food and I was told not to go anywhere alone because your people are, what? Fucking rapists?”

Negan straightened, opening his mouth to interject.

“You’ll let me finish,” Liz said, “I’m able to sneak away and almost break into a building because your people are incompetent, busy playing cards instead of watching. Boy, it really pays to be in charge, don’t it? So, you can pick on women trying to get some food but the guy picking his ass gets a free pass? _Brilliant_.”

She had barely finished her sentence as Negan’s gloved hand wrapped around her collar, hauling her inside the building with such force that she lost her footing for a second. She fell forward, one knee dragging against the cool concrete floor but he didn’t slow his roll. He tore through the hallways with intense speed, she strained to keep up. Guards on watch ducked out of his way, fearful of their dictator’s anger. He turned a corner and his boots echoed down the empty hallway as he pulled her towards one of the rooms.

Her temper flared. Liz regained her balance, shoving out of his grasp so forcefully that his back hit one of the walls.

 _I don’t think so_ , Liz thought angrily.

“Don’t” he warned, grabbing her wrist. Before she could protest, he dragged her into an empty room, kicking the door shut behind him. Then, he planted her on a couch and stood back. They both heaved angrily, trying to catch their breath.

Liz went to stand but his hand landed on her shoulder, forcing her back down.

“Don’t fucking make me do that again,” He said between breaths. He was furious. A real warning, Liz decided, not one of the fake ones he was used to uttering. He meant it this time.

“I didn’t make you do a damn thing,” she protested, digging her nails into the couch out of frustration.

“Don’t ever mouth off like that in front of my people again. Don’t ever fucking do that.” He said, ignoring her previous statement. “Christ, it’s like you want me to kill you. Is that what you want? You want to die, doll?” He tossed Lucille onto the table forcefully, running his hands over his face once again as he walked back over to her.

“I want to wipe this ugly place - every inch of it, including you, from my mind,” she said, exhaustion hitting her like a ton of bricks. She looked up just as she saw him flinch. _Good, let the insult sting_ , she thought.

“Whether you like it or not, this place is the future. And don’t worry, the feeling is mutual, darling. I’ll be happy to be rid of you soon as you serve your time." Though his characteristic smirk had returned, it was hollow. “But we have other matters to discuss, like how you’re going to make it up to me for the scene you just made.”

***

“You have some fucking nerve,” Liz hissed, staring at the detail of his leather jacket, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Negan shushed her, letting her flannel shirt fall to the ground. After a twenty minute yelling match, they had agreed to a “compromise” with regards to her punishment. Negan was of the belief that she got off easy, but Liz couldn’t disagree more. Humiliation was Negan’s favorite pastime and he was making damn sure she got a heavy dose of it.

“Like I said, if you have a problem with this arrangement, you can always go for option B.” Though his face was pale and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep, he was back to his typical smug self.

 _Yes, option B_ , Liz scoffed internally. Negan, as always, presented options: a realistic option, and then the unrealistic option no rational person would ever go for. In essence, you only had one viable option.

To pay for her bad behavior, once again, and her attempted break in, Liz could spend the rest of her sentence tied to one of the fences outside the busiest building, where she’d have to shit and eat in the same exact spot for days while his people would be given unfettered access to humiliate her. Or…

A gloved finger trailed along her shoulder, curling under the strap of her tank top.

“Can you imagine us fucking? That shit would go down in history,” he chuckled, his other hand yanking the bottom of her shirt up, revealing her midriff.

Or option A...Liz let out a growl that earned her a terse look from Negan, whose hands roamed her upper body freely. Negan had been too excited to propose it, even more excited when she accepted. Option A, allow him access to her tits "for a little bit," though he wouldn't tell her for how long when she probed, much to her frustration. Still, an hour of him humiliating her was worlds better than having to shit in front of crowds of howling men for days.

His hand wrapped around her waist and he pulled her onto the couch with him. She steadied herself, using his shoulders for support, attempting to position herself away from his throbbing erection that strained against his pants.

“Don’t be shy,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her against him. His erection pressed into her, impressive despite the layers of clothing between them. “Not like it’s your first time in my lap.”

She refused to play along, letting her arms go limp at her sides. Sadly, it didn’t deter him. He pulled her tank top up, letting the material gather around her chest as it weighed heavily on her breasts – making them protrude more.

He looked so satisfied with himself.

“Take your hair out of that braid, I want to play with it,” he grunted, his hands trailing down the sides of her waist and back up to her chest where he pushed her breasts together, giving them a good squeeze. She had to stop unbraiding halfway when he pulled off her tank top, raising her arms above her head so he could remove the flimsy garment. Then, he balled it up and tossed it into the garbage can like the asshole he was.

She suppressed another growl and returned to unbraiding her hair. Liz wasn’t certain he made eye contact with her since she agreed to this ridiculous compromise, instead his gaze was narrowly focused on her breasts, his hungry eyes memorizing every detail of her exposed body.

Negan’s gloved finger hooked in wire of her bra between her breasts and his lips turned up in that characteristically awful, perfect grin of his. He pulled it down, causing her breasts to strain against the bra. Then, he wiggled it around, watching with heavily lidded eyes as her breasts bounced. His forceful manoeuvre made her shift in his lap, the movement created friction in just the right place. His head lulled back and an erotic groan escaped his lips.

Liz froze, everything inside her clenched in anticipation. She was shocked by the pulses of her own arousal and prayed it wasn’t obvious to him how he effected her. When he opened his eyes once more, she was hit with the full force of his arousal, piercing into her both literally and figuratively. His unabashed appreciation of her body was both ego-boosting and sexy. The way he just...

She could feel his erection throbbing and expanding beneath her as one hand reached behind, expertly unclasping her bra with one snap. Her tender breasts felt swollen and heavy, the cool air causing her nipples to harden painfully. There was no fumbling or hesitation with this man. With both hands, Negan pushed her straps down the sides of her arms, slowly – deliberately tormenting her, letting the material tickle her forearms and fingers as he pulled her bra off. He didn’t immediately let go of it either. Instead, he brought her bra right to his nose, inhaling deeply without breaking eye contact.

“Cute. Smells like you.” He said with a lazy smile before letting it slip out of his hand. His eyes widened when they fell on her exposed chest.

“Well fuck, would you look at that,” he began. His hand cupped one breast, her breathing hitched in response. “How’d I know you would have your nipples pierced? You got a story behind this too, doll?”

“My friend begged me to do it with her, so I did,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“The guy piercing y’all must have thought he won the damn lottery,” he murmured, his gloved finger ran along the tiny barbell, causing her back to arch.

Before she could respond, he leaned forward and took as much of her breast as he could into his mouth. Surprised by the abrupt action, Liz gasped, pushing his shoulders back.

His back hit the couch with a thud but his eyes were full of amusement and lust. His black hair, which had always been brushed back so perfectly, had gotten tussled from burying his face in her chest and…he looked good.

Would Liz ever admit that? Never.

“You said I could play with them,” he began, his fingers pulling at the ends of her hair. “This is me playing.”

She worked to slow her racing heart, trying to keep her breath steady. He was fucking with her.

“Wanna get married?” He asked with a sheepish grin as he gently pinched one of her nipples.

Liz rolled her eyes.

“Don’t embarrass yourself, you wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like me.” She hissed, painfully aware that the wetness between her thighs would expose her for the fraud she was.

“I know exactly what I’d do with you.”

The words rolled off his tongue easily, as if he knew she would say that. Then, he brought his lips to her chest, this time leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way until he reached the sensitive part of her neck. His hands worked her tender breasts, plumping and pinching, knowing exactly where and how hard she wanted it. She trembled against him, feeling her legs weaken at the sensation.

He paused, pulling back ever so slightly to look at her.

“I fucking knew it,” he growled before rolling her under him.

“Get off me,” she spat, wiggling out of his grasp.

“Woman, don’t even fucking lie to me, you want me too,” he growled into her ear, his arms on either side of her head – trapping her. His lips returned to her neck. She barely caught a whimper that threatened to spill out as he nipped at her collarbone.

“I mean it,” Liz said weakly.

And with that he pulled away, his warmth leaving her. For a few moments, Liz laid there, staring at the ceiling and cursing herself for what she almost let happen. Then, she titled, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he stared across the room, looking equally as aroused and confused as she was.

Liz snatched her bra that was hanging over the side of the couch.

“Here,” he grunted, grabbing her shirt off the floor and handing it to her.

“Thanks,” Liz muttered awkwardly. She shrugged into the shirt, pushing her hair out of the collar before working the buttons. When she looked up, he was looking at her oddly.

“Well, you are awfully fun to play with…” Negan’s voice trailed off. “What’s your name again?”

 _Low blow, asshole_ , Liz thought as she pulled her hair into a messy bun.

“We done here?” She asked, standing up straight.

“Did I say we were done?” A grimace graced his features, magnifying the exhaustion already there. Liz could feel another screaming match coming on. “I asked you a question. You remember the rules, right?”

She rubbed at her neck in an attempt to rid herself of him and every sensation he invoked – she wanted him gone.

“Elizabeth,” she said with a sigh, giving in. If the clock on the wall was right, it was pushing one in the morning and she had to be up in a few hours to work the pits. And, she didn’t want to endure another one of Negan’s special punishments.

“I am in one fucking predicament,” he said teasingly, gesturing to his erection. Rollercoaster ride Negan had returned in full force. Liz wondered what mood he would jump into next.

“Good thing I have five wives,” he continued as he stood. Though his tone was meant to sound playful, it came out bitter. “Hey – Elizabeth, help me out. Which one should I fuck tonight?”

“Can’t help you with that, I’ve never fucked any of them,” she replied as she turned towards the door.

“Jealous?” he quipped.

She refused to even entertain that with an answer, slipping into auto-pilot. Was she jealous? She wasn’t even sure she was ready to even begin examining her emotions.

Negan didn’t say another word to her, not even to taunt her. After they left the room, he instructed one of his men to escort her back to her cell before he waltzed off, without so much as looking at her. Despite herself, she glanced back at him, watching as he walked out with Lucille in tow, disappearing into the darkness.

She turned the corner, heading towards the cell block when the guard turned around.

“You’ve got five minutes,” the guard said. Liz’s brows raised in confusion, not understanding. “Say what you gotta then get out of here.”

She barely had a chance to register what was happening before she was slammed into the wall, a pair of hands wrapping tightly around her throat.

“Don’t leave any marks or he’ll know,” the guard warned angrily, looking around the corner to ensure Negan was nowhere in sight.

Liz locked eyes with her attacker's as a twisted smile etched across his bruised face.

 _Davey_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: This is an eventual smut piece, I'll work up to it.
> 
> Me to me: Write about boobs and erections. Do it.


	5. Save Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mention of sexual violence and some gore.
> 
> Chapter title is named after the song "Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward because I grew up listening to 90s rock alternative so now you all have to suffer through my music taste.

The harsh thud of fist connecting with flesh echoed down the narrow hallway. In an instant, white nothingness etched across her vision, blinding her momentarily until the damp, dimly lit corridor came back into view. Liz let out a hiss but resisted the urge to lean into the wall for support, unwilling to show an inkling of weakness. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the bitter taste of her blood swirling around her mouth as the familiar twinges of nausea spread throughout her head. While defeat stung worse than Davey’s blow, Liz could hardly muster the energy to reprimand herself for being so foolish. Her typical self-critical thoughts were no where to be found. Instead, her mind was a blanket of white noise.

She wasn’t certain how long she had been staring at the twitching panel lights overhead before she heard distant footsteps around the corner, snapping her back to reality – a place she in that moment wanted nothing more to escape. And while part of her prayed for the power consumed dictator to come into view, she was disappointed to find the guard from earlier re-emerging, whose eyes went wide with terror at the sight of Liz.

“You said you were just going to scare her!” The guard whispered fiercely as he approached Davey. Liz took in the guard’s appearance, ignoring the swelling in her cheek where Davey’s fist had connected. _Such a young lamb_ , Liz thought bitterly. She could remember being that young…early twenties, that’s where she put him. Though she probably only had a few years on him, the guard’s demeanor was hardly threatening, even with several guns strapped to his sides…no, not with the way his clothing hung off his small figure and the pinch of baby fat lining his face. Liz wondered what he had done to earn such a position within the Sanctuary – just who he had stepped on or killed to get where he was.

Her eyes snapped to Davey, who had scarcely noticed the guard’s words. His fist was tightened, poised for another blow, his eyes conveying a triumphant smugness. Liz tried to find solace in her own small victory – Davey’s nose had seen better days, that was for sure. His eyes were blackened from the blow she had delivered just days earlier and his swollen nose was littered with painful looking stitches, marking the spot where she had broken his skin, a reminder of the strength she had inside her. Suddenly her cheek didn’t hurt too bad.

“If he finds out that yo-“

“She ain’t a snitch,” Davey snarled, barring all his yellowed teeth. “And if you don’t want the boss to know your mother stole from commissary last week, you’ll keep your mouth shut too.”

The guard had the decency to look ashamed, averting his eyes down the hall as he toyed with the strap of one of his guns absentmindedly. Liz noted the guilt brewing in his eyes before they met her pale grey ones, conveying nothing but sympathy. _Little good sympathy would do me now_ , Liz thought as something cool spread across her back. Without realizing it, she had slouched into the wall, unable to support her spinning head any longer. On second thought, her cheek stung like fucking hell.

“You’ve got two minutes and counting,” the guard began, “I rotate in five, I can’t miss it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” Davey smiled, inching closer to her with a snake like grace that made her skin crawl. His bad breath tickled her ear as he continued. “You have no idea what you’ve done bitch, but you’re going to make it right.”

“Aren’t I a little too old for your taste?” Liz countered lowly, lifting her chin to look at him directly. She knew what he was. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Negan was afraid of Davey deep down too. He wasn’t just dangerous – he was a true monster among men and he needed to be put down.

Davey slammed his fist into her gut, quickly hauling her upright when her knees buckled.

“Seriously man!” The guard grabbed Davey’s elbow, yanking him back though it did little to deter him. Davey shrugged out of the guard’s grasp, his eyes excited.

“Don’t be a stupid cunt, that pretty little girl back home is depending on you to come back to her in one piece,” he warned as he gave her a knowing smile. “You’re going to run an errand for me and if you do it – _and do it right_ , I’ll consider us even.”

 _Of-fucking course_ , Liz thought as her lip turned up in a sneer. Davey wasn’t stupid enough to kill her, he knew better. But, he was stupid enough to pull shit like this behind Negan’s back. With all she had witnessed, it was clear to her that Negan wasn’t the only person with power here – his men clearly manipulated others the same way he manipulated them. Whether Negan tolerated or was even aware of these arrangements was unclear. That ambiguity made it difficult to discern whether telling Negan would work to her advantage or to her detriment.

“What do you want me to do?” Liz asked, her voice monotone. Until she knew better, it was probably best to play along.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be given some instructions. You just gotta follow them and your little girl is safe…I don’t think I need to explain what happens if you don’t?” To drive the point home, Davey dug one of his long, unkempt fingernails into her swollen cheek.

“Alright, you’ve said what you had to say, I’ve got to get her back now,” the guard said, gently taking hold of her shoulder. Davey leaned back in response, his eyes lingering on hers for too long as the guard coaxed her away from him. Under the artificial light, Davey looked more intimidating, the bruises casting a menacing shadow over his face. In those glowering orbs, Liz saw everything he would do if she didn’t follow along. The horrible images were punishment enough and it was clear Davey saw all her fears. With that, he bowed his head slightly, laughing to himself in victory before spinning on his heel towards the door.

“If you think of tattling,” Davey called, not bothering to turn around as he approached the exit. “Just know that my guys are in on it. If they even suspect you’re going to tell Negan of this, your ass is dead. Don’t overestimate your importance, you’re already a thorn in his side!”

The door slammed shut behind him just as his last words echoed down the hallway, reaching inside her. The words crawled under her skin, firmly cementing themselves in her mind. She knew she could do it, that wasn’t the issue. Whatever was on that list, it was a done deal in her books if it meant keeping Kayla safe from harm. The issue, however, took form in a nagging question that tugged at her, demanding to be answered though Liz wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. _Would he even care if something happened to her?_

***

Despite every effort to push it out of her mind, the question stayed with her throughout the day. It persisted through the long shift in the pits, rearing its ugly head during every bathroom and water break, staining every spare moment of thought and interrupting the brief moments where she felt nothing. Worse were the answers she found herself giving every time the question returned. Overwhelmingly, she answered no, he probably wouldn’t care. Why would he? Negan had made it clear since he brought her to his home that she was merely a prisoner, nothing more. And that pissed her off, so much that in fact, the first thing she did when they opened the gates to the pits that morning was beat the shit out of the first walker she got her hands on.

Another poor move on her part, for it expended energy she needed throughout the day and to complete whatever heinous plan Davey had in store for her. Why did she even care? That was _the_ question. It wasn’t like he was a friend, certainly not a lover. In fact, more and more she found his presence revolting. She had come along willingly when he had demanded it because she wanted to know their numbers, their weaknesses… _what a mistake that had been_ , Liz thought. She truly underestimated the man, he wasn’t one to be played.

She stared down at her shoes dejectedly, examining the dirt and grime that caked her entire legs, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her cheek and the migraine that had quickly followed. She had barely made it through the day - Liz had one too many close calls, if not for Ben’s intervention. He did his best to avoid appearing too invested and Liz had appreciated it but he was hardly thrilled to see her…hell, he had looked downright pissed. She recalled the amount of dirty looks she had received during her shift. It appeared her little indiscretion last night had consequences for them all. Security had more than doubled and that meant more desperate guards itching to harass and kill them.

Movement in front of her stirred Liz from her thoughts. The line for dinner service moved slowly and yet, she strained to keep up. She was unsurprised to find at least a dozen people in front of her today. _So much for being first in line today_ , Liz thought as she watched kitchen staff pour slop into a dirty bowl. The portion was barely enough to feed a small child and her stomach turned, a painful reminder that she was starving. And just like that, the question invaded her thoughts once more. Liz quickly answered: she didn’t matter to Negan, none of them did.

Her feet dragged as a guard ushered her into an empty seat. Looking down the length of the table, Liz noted that she was alone apart from a few workers who sat furthest away from her, eyeing her warily. She could feel their disdain for her, it was unnerving – she didn’t need anymore enemies. Liz unscrewed the cap of her water bottle, moving to pour the contents into a cup until something caught her eye. Confused, she peered into the cup. There, at the bottom, sat a neatly folded piece of paper. _Those must be Davey’s instructions_ , Liz thought as she started for the cup but stopped short when a familiar voice assaulted her ears.  

“Have you reconsidered my offer?”

Liz straightened, her hand withdrawing just as Negan rounded the cafeteria table. He looked well rested, his hollow smirk making its reappearance. He lowered himself into one of the empty seats across from her, analyzing her as he always did though she could hardly focus. She prayed he hadn’t noticed what was in the cup. _Kayla_ …Liz thought.

Her lips fell into a grim line as she scooped up a spoonful of slop, trying her best to appear indifferent.

“If you haven’t noticed, people aren’t too happy with you right now,” Negan continued, as if she wasn’t blatantly ignoring him. She wouldn’t be surprised if that was part of some plan he had, alienating her from everyone, forcing her to accept his offer. She watched from the corner of her eye as he drummed his gloved fingers against the hard surface of the table. “Do you really think you’ll last a few more days like this? I won’t judge you for begging, darling.”

A bitter laugh spilled out of her dry, cracked lips. The question was back, this time blaring between her ears. Finally, she understood. Would he care? No. And why wouldn’t he? Liz eyed him, realizing the one thing about Negan that he had made plain as day to anyone paying attention.  

“You know, when my community fell apart,” Liz began as she scrapped the bottom of her dish, certain she was consuming remnants of whatever had been in the bowl before she was served her slop. “A bunch of us fled, there was about thirty of us. Anyway, somewhere out there I became their leader. I didn’t choose it and I didn’t take it seriously at first. I mean, can you remember the moment you realized you were in charge?”

“Sure, yeah…” his brow quirked, clearly confused by her sudden talkativeness.

“But then I had no choice but to take it seriously, especially when people started dying. They all dropped like flies…” Liz said as she stirred her slop, recalling all those they lost on the road. “I remember all of them.”

 “I think you’ve been out in the sun too long, doll,” Negan rubbed his beard, his eyes flickering over her cheek. He showed no emotion upon inspecting the bruise, though for once, his reaction did not surprise her.

 “I had a moment of clarity,” she began. “I can recall the names of every person I lost while out there. Every death felt personal. I was responsible for them, after all.”

She met his eyes, a sense of calm overcoming her. Though his gaze was calculating and analytical, she saw something else in there. Anger, perhaps. He wasn’t stupid, he could read between the lines. He knew what she was getting at. That he even allowed it was an impressive feat, and she took full advantage of it.

“I saw that in someone else. You know, Rick…”

“Hon’ if there is one way to make my dick go soft, it’s mentioning that piece of shit,” Negan cut in, slapping his hand against the table as he went to stand. _Running away_ , Liz thought.

“I trust him with my people, should anything happen to me,” Liz continued. “And if I were to die, Rick would feel responsible for it.”

“Are we talking about the same Rick?” Negan replied, incredulous at her remark. “Before you drink Rick’s Kool-Aid, you should know what you’re getting into. This is the same prick that killed a bunch of my people in their fucking sleep. _Cowardly_.” The last word was more a snarl than an intelligible response.

 _If only he had killed you all_ , Liz thought as she watched Negan effortlessly rise to his feet, his strong legs pushing the chair out from under him. As much as he tried to appear unconcerned, she knew her words got to him much like Davey’s words got to her. Negan was great at managing people, but was he a leader? Would they follow his orders unquestioningly, or were they simply waiting for the right moment?

She watched him, Lucille swaying at his side as he retreated.

 _Not a leader, not a savior_ , Liz thought, grabbing the cup.

***

Liz fisted the instructions as she pressed her back into the concrete wall. Slipping away had been a lot easier thanks to Davey’s men. She had barely set foot into her cell before a few guards came to collect her. Initially she believed Negan wanted to torment her further, perhaps finally understanding the weight of her words but she was surprised to find that was not the case. Davey’s men discretely escorted her to a small, one-story building in a part of the compound she didn’t recognize and promptly left her to her own devices with nothing but a flashlight and the piece of paper containing Davey’s instructions.

Since her brief conversation with Negan, more nagging thoughts had crept inside her. Rick had failed to mention that they had spilt blood like that. She almost couldn’t believe it, though it certainly put Negan’s excessive rage towards Rick and his people into context. But did it change things? Not really, she decided. She pushed the thoughts aside, her fingers trailing over the instructions. Whatever Davey wanted her to incinerate must be hella incriminating for him not to trust anyone getting rid of it, save for her. Certainly, any other savior would use it against him, manipulating him to do their bidding…So, he needed someone disposable, someone like her. Liz had to admit it was smart, even for Davey.

She followed the instructions to every minute detail as she crept through the empty building. It was clearly not in use, overflowing with junk. Broken chairs and supplies crowded the hallways and Liz often had to keep her flashlight trained on the floor to avoid tripping over rubbish. All she had to do was locate whatever Davey had buried in all this junk and get it to the furnace and while she was skeptical, did she really have any other choice?

She shone the flashlight on a mountain of garbage just as a rat scurried between piles. These people had so much they even had a building reserved for junk - it was the epitome of wasteful, in her opinion. Even when she had been part of a large community, nothing ever went to waste. She glanced over items, recognizing them as some of the things his men had taken when they visited Alexandria. _They didn’t even need it, but they still took it_ , Liz thought, scoffing to herself as she entered a small room.

She was on the brink of throwing her hands up in defeat when her flashlight passed over a backpack wedged into a pile. It was red and stood out of place amidst the filthy trash, spray-painted with the letter ‘A.’ She held up her instructions, squinting. Davey’s instructions had said something about an ‘A’ but she couldn’t for the life of her understand what it was until her eyes fell on the bag. She quickly grabbed it, sticking the flashlight in her mouth as she unzipped it impatiently. Though his instructions did not say she could look inside, they also didn’t say she couldn’t.

Liz exhaled sharply, staring at the contents of the bag for what felt like an eternity. Something wasn’t right and while her mind screamed for her to run, her legs felt like deadweight as she held the bag open. _Well I’ll be damned_ , Liz thought. The bag slipped out of her fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud. It was empty save for the items she had stolen the other day for her “get out of jail” kit. Then, she felt her legs moving.

She tore out of the room in time to see shadows approaching the front door. They were coming for her and she needed to get out **now**. Liz jumped over a pile of garbage, yanking every door open until she found one that had a window. By then, she could hear footsteps approaching at a fast pace. She slammed the door, quickly scanning the room for something…anything to break the window.

The instructions had been a rouse and there was only one terrible reason Davey would make it look like she was trying to escape the Sanctuary.

 _Damned either way_ , Liz thought as she grabbed the leg of a broken chair, hurling it at the window. It shattered loudly, raining glass all over the ledge and the floor. It would attract attention, that’s what she was praying for. She heard the door whip open behind her just as she pushed herself out, hitting the ground as Davey and two other men descended upon her.

“Get her fucking feet,” one barked, yanking a handful of her hair.

She swung, landing a solid hit on the uglier one’s jaw before someone kicked her hard in her side. She heaved, the air leaving her lungs as she clutched her ribcage in agony. She tried to make a break for it but one of them grabbed her braid, yanking her down to the ground. Liz felt her energy draining from her body as she listened to the sickening sounds of the men laughing as they kicked her.

“I get her first,” the other declared as he dug a knee into her back, twisting her arm around like a rag doll.

“Fuck you!” Liz bellowed with what little strength she had left, hoping it would attract the attention of other Saviors. One of Davey’s men forced her face into the dirt, muffling her groans as they restrained her. She spat a mouthful of dirt she had inhaled, trying to catch her breath.

“Shut her up, I don’t care how,” Davey growled as he looked around the corner. “Little bitch was loud…If anyone finds us, what do you say?”

Silence fell over them for the briefest moment. She could almost hear the gears working in their heads as Davey’s men processed his words.

“That she was trying to run away and we caught her,” one answered after a long pause, looking to Davey for confirmation that he was a good boy that answered correctly.

“But then how are we supposed to fuck her?” the other asked as he pulled her to her feet. She flinched under the guard’s harsh handling of her, the pain in her side becoming worse with every passing second.

The question earned them a groan from Davey, who stormed over.

“Come around back, I’ll let y’all in,” someone else said. She strained to lift her head, watching as a man peering out of the window beckoned for them to follow before disappearing into the darkness. The odds were against her – four against one. Davey had just needed to find a way to get her to comply and not raise any red flags to Negan…he had no intention of letting her live afterall. Her mind drifted to Kayla, imagining what her little sister was doing right now. Kayla would be safe with Christine, with Delia…with Rick. But, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Kayla alone in this world.

Davey’s men dragged her along the side of the building, leading her to the backdoor. Liz wracked her brain for an escape plan. She had been wondering just how far she could run before they caught up when one of the men sputtered, letting go of her like she had burned him. She barely had a chance to register what was happening before the rest followed suit. She swayed on her feet, each breath magnifying the pain in her side as she looked towards the door.

There, in the pale light, was Negan. He leaned against the wall, pen in hand as he flipped through the pages of a notebook. Lucille wasn’t far, propped against the wall a few inches away from him. The men around her heaved in fear. Negan, on the other hand, appeared completely oblivious to their presence as he scribbled in the book and muttering to himself, clearly in the midst of some mental math. Several of his men stood behind him, including Dwight, all looking sour with their guns out, ready for anything.

Davey and his men fell to their knees. He was no knight in shining armor but she was thankful to see her screams had gotten the right kind of attention. It was then Liz noticed he was covered in blood. His dark grey pants looked like an impressionist piece – covered in blood splatters and what looked like a smeared, bloody handprint. Her eyes drifted over his belt, where the handle of a large blade poked out, also covered in blood.

 _Well, he wasn’t subtle_ , Liz thought as her gaze snapped to the back door where henchman number four lay face down, his blood pooling down the sides of the steps onto the path before them.

“You too, doll,” Negan said without looking up from his book as he gestured for her to get down.

Liz knew his calm exterior was merely a façade and now would be the worst time to test the boundaries of his patience. With that, she sank to the ground, the book snapping shut just as she felt the soft grass under her knees. It was eerily silent; the only noise being Negan’s casual movements as he placed the book on the windowsill before retrieving Lucille.

“Please, she was trying to run away, we caught her for you…” one of Davey’s men regurgitated the rehearsed excuse as Negan approached them.

He gave the man a curt nod as he raised his hand in a signal. Two single gun shots echoed between the buildings, into the cool night. Davey’s henchmen…their heads snapped back from the force of the blow before crumpling to the ground. One of the men crumpled sideways, his head, or what was left of it, landing on her shoulder. His blood dripped down the back of her neck as she gave the dead man a rough shove with her elbow, her hands still restrained behind her back. His limp body landed with a thud at her knees.

“You kids are always at each other’s throats,” Negan chastised animatedly as he pointed Lucille between them as if she and Davey were nothing more than a pair of disruptive siblings. The comment got a few laughs among his people before they descended into silence once more. Liz coughed, spitting blood onto the grass. She was shivering, every bit of energy had been used up…she had nothing left.

“Look, I don’t care who fucking started it. But y’all are trying my last nerve with your inability to follow my very limited but super fucking clear rules. Now I hate doing this,” he said with an ear to ear grin, “But this is gonna cost you your lives. So…who should I kill first?’

 “I’ve been with you since the beginning!” Davey hollered fearfully.  

“Kill him first, I wanna watch,” Liz said at the same time. Negan's brows shot up in surprise as she said the words, his grin unwavering as he stepped in front of her. 

“That’s fucking dark, darling” Negan remarked, eyeing her with amusement.

She tried to think of a witty retort but her mind was hazy. Though she could hear her blood pounding between her ears, she couldn't feel anything else as her world faded into a blackness she could do nothing else but embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any feedback (comments/kudos) are appreciated, especially as a new writer. Enjoy!


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